He Watched Me Freeze Now He Begs For My Return Chapter 28
Robert’s letter arrived at my lawyer’s office the next day.
The envelope carried a prison stamp, but the addressee wasn’t me. It was my lawyer.
He knew contacting me directly would get him nowhere, so he had once again tried to knock on someone else’s door.
My lawyer called. “You don’t have to read it. I can return it unopened.”
I was silent for a few seconds.
“Scan it and send it to me.”
I wasn’t interested in his repentance.
I just wanted to know if that familiar form of address could still hurt me.
In the letter, Robert called me his daughter.
He wrote that prison life was hard, that he reflected every day. He admitted drunk driving had been “the greatest mistake of his life,” then spent three pages explaining that the weather had been bad, Paige’s mother had suddenly slowed down, and he himself had been young.
When he got to the blizzard night, he still described it as a family test that had gotten out of hand.
“We never expected the snow to get that heavy, and we were watching your location the whole time. You got away safely in the end, didn’t you?”
So even now, he believed that as long as I hadn’t died, the harm could be erased.
At the end of the letter, he finally stated his purpose.
His lawyer was preparing materials for his sentence review. If his biological daughter was willing to testify that he had been a responsible father, it would help him considerably.
“Nora, your father has already paid the price.”
“Your mother is about to stand trial. The Bennett family has no one left but you to help me.”
I stared at those lines and felt no anger.
Only the weariness of seeing exactly what I had expected.
He hadn’t written because he missed me.
Just as he hadn’t wanted me at the gala because he saw me as family—he only needed a complete set for his model family portrait.
Now he needed to be a “responsible father,” so he wanted to place me back in the role of his biological daughter.
I told my lawyer to reply formally.
“Nora will not provide a character statement, nor does she consent to any form of direct or indirect contact.”
My lawyer asked if I wanted to attach a reason.
“No.”
What he had done was written plainly in the videos, the group chats, and the court files.
My refusal didn’t need his judgment, too.
Once the reply was sent, Robert never got a second chance to send another letter.
And I finally knew for certain that no matter how many times he called me his daughter, he could never make me turn back.
Blood had once been the rope they used to tie me down.
Now, it was just a fact that had nothing to do with me.